


Slow Dancing in a Burning Room

by Dystopian_Dramaqueen, thismidnight



Series: When You Find Me [1]
Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV), The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Consistent with Cannon, Denial, Emotional pain, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Flashbacks, Goodbye Sex, Goodbyes, Grief, Heavy Angst, Honesty, Intimacy, Mention of Corporal Punishment, Mention of Rape / Non-Con, Morning After, Morning Cuddles, Nick and June Endgame, Nick and June's last day together, Nick sent off to war, PTSD, Sadness, Set immediately after S2 Finale, Trust, Vulnerability, finding hope, suppressed emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-02 20:02:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18818017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dystopian_Dramaqueen/pseuds/Dystopian_Dramaqueen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thismidnight/pseuds/thismidnight
Summary: June returns to the Waterford's after the events of the Season 2 finale.She is punished for leaving with Holly.She learns that Waterford is sending Nick to the war front. He leaves the following morning.This is what their last night and morning together might look like-If they thought they would never see each other again.(ANGST HEAVY with happy ending. You have been warned!)





	1. Dusk

_"I’m sorry there is so much pain in this story._

_I’m sorry it’s in fragments,_

_like a body caught in crossfire or pulled apart by force._

_But there is nothing I can do to change it.”_  

-Margaret Atwood “The Handmaid’s Tale”

_\-------------------------------------------------------_

 

June's teeth are chattering. She clenches her jaw, pulling her limbs in tighter to conserve heat. 

She’s spent the night in a field by the bridge. Hiding. Shivering. Trying to piece together a plan. She got Holly out. She placed her infant daughter in Emily’s arms and watched the van drive away. One daughter is safe. Now she has to rescue Hannah. But how? Where could she hide? For how long? How would she get there? Who would dare help her?  She's spent the night thinking through every scenario. She never thought she'd make it this far. Escaping the Waterfords had seemed impossible. So she'd never planned beyond that. She wishes now that she had, because the view from the streets of Gilead is terrifying and humbling. Escaping the house isn't enough. 

 

June closes her eyes. Forcing herself to focus. Consider the options one more time. Knowing she'd come to the same conclusion. She had to go back. Back to her allies. Rita and Nick. The ones who helped her escape. Maybe they can hide her. Or maybe she can beg Serena for forgiveness. Tell her Holly was kidnapped. June shakes her head to clear it. _No. Fuck Serena. Serena is a slave owner. She dreamed up the regime that shot my husband and ripped Hannah from my arms. She held me down while Fred raped me into labor. Serena cares only for herself. But could I use her somehow..._

 

June opens her eyes. Dawn’s grey fingers have begun to creep into the eastern sky. The last siren has fallen silent, and the last fire has been extinguished. June knows she’s out of time. If she’s going to have any control over how her capture goes, she needs to get back to Waterford’s. If she’s found unaccompanied on the streets of Gilead after daybreak she’ll be on the wall by sundown.

She stands on stiff, aching legs. Brushing the mulch and dirt from her dress. Reluctantly starting the dreaded journey back to Waterford’s house.

——----------------------—————-

As expected, she’s apprehended as soon as she emerges from the bushes by Waterford’s gate. She is collected. Manhandled by eager guardians.

Her stomach sinks. These men will be rewarded for finding her. A missing Handmaid. A precious resource. They will be praised, promoted, rewarded. With dominion over virgin girls who have never heard the word consent. Her thoughts go to these poor children as she’s ushered inside the house. She apologizes silently to the future brides of these brutes. _I’m sorry for your suffering. I am responsible. It is my fault. Like so many other things. Please forgive me._

She’s taken to her old room and pushed inside. The door is locked behind her with finality. Like the closing of a tomb.

 

June wonders briefly if any of it had been real. Nick. Their love. Her escape. It was all for nothing. Here she is again in this tiny room with the white lace curtains. Childless. Alone. Not knowing what the future holds. Life or death. Not knowing which would be worse.

 

The window has been painted black. There’s no light. No portal to any other world. She thinks of the next Offred. No ceiling fixtures. No window. What privilege will they revoke after her rebellion?

 

June crawls into bed. Shivering under the threadbare quilt. Thankful for the warmth. Falling into a dreamless sleep.

She spends days in the room. Waiting. There’s no human contact aside from food deliveries twice daily. Rita remains silent, not daring to speak in front of the guardians that accompany her. Avoiding eye contact. Disgusted. Disappointed. Distant.

After 3 days, June is almost relieved when she’s summoned by the stone faced guardians. The last time this happened it led to her first real escape. This flicker of hope drowns in stomach acid as she rounds the corner to find the Waterford household assembled in the living room. Like an oil painting from the Victorian era. Faded velvet and satin. Dark wood and stiff postures.

Lydia. Leaning on a cane. There to administer June’s punishment for heresy. Face bruised and swollen. Somehow more monstrous than before.

The Waterfords are seated on the couch. Fred's face is a mask of rage. Serena looks distant, almost catatonic with grief. 

Nick and Rita stand with their hands folded. Rita is expressionless. Her mind must be elsewhere. Nick looks ill. His eyes and jaw are clenched shut. Powerless as ever to speak or act. Clearly no longer able to bear it. It’s sobering that he hasn’t found her eyes. Can’t he chance it? Is he upset with her too? Do they know he helped her?

June takes her place in front of the staff- kneeling before the fireplace. Two heavily armed guardians block the exits.

June returns her eyes to the floor, thinking of Nick. Sorry too for his suffering. Also her fault. She apologizes silently. _I’m sorry my love. I had no choice. I’ve never had any choice._ She isn’t listening to the scripture or the charges. Nick must be. His breaths grow tighter with each passing word.

Then it’s over. The staff are dismissed. The guardians lift June to her feet. She's ushered to Waterford’s office. Boxed in behind Lydia, Waterford and Serena. Entombed again as the heavy wooden door closes.

 

\----------------------------------

 

 

Late that night June stands on the stairs outside Nicks’ apartment. After a slow, excruciating walk on her injured feet. She blows out several breaths, relaxing her face.

She knocks quietly. The door opens and Nick pulls her inside quickly. Scanning her for injuries.

“You ok?”

“Yeah.” She says, nodding vigorously.

 

They both know she’s lying. 

June walks carefully. Keeping her face and breathing even despite the scorching pain with each step. Aware of Nick’s eyes on her. 

It’s her first time in his apartment since Eden. The colors are brighter and cheerier. The place is cleaner, homier. But the yellow curtains do nothing to lift the funereal atmosphere. The air is dank, heavy, thick with smoke. 

They sit at his kitchen table. The crocheted tablecloth is new. It’s nice. She glances at his ashtray- full, with a half smoked cigarette still burning. There's also a half empty bottle of scotch and glass in front of Nick. 

“I thought you didn’t drink.”

“I don’t.”

She glances at Nick’s face. He doesn’t look back at her. His gaze is fixed on the table between them. He looks like shit. Pale. Red rimmed eyes glossed over. Far away in his thoughts. He fidgets with his ring finger absently.

_You looked like this the night Eden died. You were hurting. You pushed me away. I shouldn’t have let you. I should have come to you then too. You’re not getting away that easy this time._ June breaks the silence.

“I overheard Fred and Lydia talking...you’re leaving tomorrow?”

Nick nods.

“Where for?”

Nick shifts and exhales. “The front.” Like that’s all she needs to know.

June waits but nothing else is said. She shakes her head. Not understanding what that means.

“What front?”

“The War Front.” He says quietly.

June shakes her head, still lost.

“It was that or prison. Those were my choices.”

June feels a chill creep into her heart. _Prison or war. The fuck kind of choice is that? Die here or die there._

“Fred was coming after you. I stopped him.”

June’s eyebrows squeeze together. “What?” Ice grips her chest as she suddenly understands. Nick put himself between her and Waterford. 

“I waited for the eyes, but they never came. Fred called me to his office the next day. To tell me I'd been promoted.”

“...Promoted?”

Nick scoffs. “It’s bullshit.”

“But more power, a promotion, that’s a good thing, right?”

“About as good as my last one.”

June’s eyes snap shut as she remembers Eden. Her stomach sinks. _There are no rewards in Gilead, only fresh torments._

She takes a deep calming breath. Forcing her mind back to Nick’s table. Feeling her hands on the waxed wood. Noting the branching pattern of the tablecloth. Delicate white stitches. She continues.

“Where’s the front?"

“Mountains. Cities. Woods. Anywhere rebels are fighting back.”

“Will you have to _fight_?”

“I don’t know.” He says, rubbing his forehead. Leg bouncing nervously.

“That what this is for?” She gestures at the liquor bottle with a smile. Trying desperately to get some levity in the suffocating heaviness between them. “Liquid courage?”

Nick shakes his head absently.

Her smile falls away. “Nick. Talk to me.”

He’s tapping his thumb on the table. Blinking rapidly. When he speaks his voice is soft. A pained whisper.

“What’d they do to you?”

Nick’s eyes find hers for the first time since her return. Smoldering with helplessness and rage. 

June feels sick. There’s no greater torture for this man than knowing someone he loves is in pain and he’s been here all day. Not knowing if or when her punishment would stop.

_I should have come sooner._ “I’m fine.” She says firmly. _All things considered, it wasn’t that bad. Lydia didn’t have her steel cables today. No body parts were removed._

Nick’s eyes squeeze shut. Jaw clenched hard against some image in his mind.

June reaches for his hand. “Hey- I’m ok. It’s over.”

Nick pulls his hand away. “June.” He says firmly. “Tell me.”

June shakes her head definitively. Shutting down his query. “No. Fuck that. I’m not spending our last night talking about that shit.”

She regrets the words as soon as they’re out. _Our last night._   _Everything I say makes this worse._

“I do have some _good_ news. I’ve been reassigned. I leave for my new posting in the morning.”

Nick rolls his eyes and scoffs, wiping a stray tear with the palm of his hand. “That’s _good_ news?”

“Oh yeah.” She says, nodding like it should be obvious. “I can finally post my scathing Yelp review of the Waterford bed and breakfast. Zero stars. Do not recommend. Owners are assholes. Guy above the garage makes it bearable.” Nick is unable to stop a smirk from crossing his face. June smiles, pleased with the improvement in his mood.

 

She pours herself a shot. Knocks it back, swallowing the harsh liquid without wincing. She nods appreciatively. “Scotch?”

Nick nods.

“30 year. The good stuff.”

“Only the best for my best gal.”

She pours a second glass and pushes it to him but he takes her hand instead. Finally connecting. His dark gaze locks on hers. June ignores the plea in his eyes. Continuing to skip playfully around the elephant in the room.

“You gonna drink this or am I?”

Nick says nothing. June shrugs and drains the glass, this time with a wince. “God I hate scotch. I’m a daiquiri girl when left to my own devices.”

“Sorry. You can order next time.” Nick looks sicker with every word. _There is no next time._

“Nick.” She says, straightening, squeezing his hand. But he’s far away again. She moves around the table to the window seat next to him. “Hey.”

Nick doesn’t move. Tense. Eyes on the table. 

June scoots closer and gently lifts his chin. His eyes begrudgingly find hers. She smiles kindly, holding eye contact. Throwing him a lifeline. Bringing him back. Like he’d done for her so many times before. He softens under her attention. Letting her touches ground him here in this moment with her.

 

June strokes his cheek with her thumb. Thumb pad brushing his sandpapery stubble. Mindfully. Memorizing the particular shade of his tan skin. A hint of olive. Warm like caramel. Tracing his lips with her fingertips. Feeling his breath warm and soft on her fingers.

Nick swallows thickly. “I can’t…..”

“Shhhhh.” June cuts him off. Knowing what he's trying to say. Not wanting to talk about it.

But Nick’s shaking his head. “I can’t....” the words die on his lips again, too painful to speak. He breathes deeply. Eyes closed. June waits. Giving him time to get it out. “...I can’t lose you.” He finally grinds out in a broken whisper.

The words land hard. But June’s shaking her head gently- smiling. Ignoring the pain. “I’m right here.” She whispers reassuringly. Nick stares back helplessly. June pulls him into a hug. Kissing his dark curls. Like she used to do after Hannah had nightmares. _I’m sorry my love. I know it’s not enough, but it’s all I have to give you._ His muscles finally relax. He exhales deeply.

 

June releases him from the hug and takes his hands. Her voice is gentle. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

Nick's face is grave. He nods. He stands and goes to his closet, rifling under folded clothes. He opens a small matchbox- pulling out it’s contents. He holds up a condom silently. A question. An offer. Her choice.

“Black market?” June asks. Buying herself time to think.

Nick nods.

The moment is infinitely sad. _I don’t want anything between us._ _I want more children with you._ _Pregnancy would protect me._ _But you won’t be here to help us this time. It would just be another stolen child. Torn from my arms before I’m passed on to the next rapist commander._ She suddenly sees it so clearly. Her future. Her life as a Handmaid. Grief threatens to overtake her. She pushes it down.

June has resolved to ignore her own feelings tonight. She wants to focus on comforting Nick. She’ll have the rest of her life to miss him. To unpack her grief. Nick won’t have that luxury. Where he’s going there will be no softness. No space for feelings. Kind men have been systematically exterminated. Torn to pieces. Particulated. There may not be any men like Nick left alive.

Her terror grows thinking of him in the black armor of the angels. Surrounded by violent brutes with guns. The image is too painful. She feels true panic setting in. _He can’t go there. He’s not right for that world. He’ll be in danger._ June’s stomach twists with anguish. Their reality too bleak, too frightening to bear.

She needs to center herself. Calm down. Her eyes flutter shut. She calls up her favorite fantasy. The one that always calms her. She’s kept it locked away. Protected. In a tiny corner of her mind yet untouched by Gilead. _Nick and Holly at the beach. Napping in a hammock in the shade of a palm grove. Holly’s tiny face sticky with pineapple juice- cheek stuck to Nick’s tan chest as it rises and falls evenly. Nick’s arm wrapped protectively around his sleeping daughter. Skin shiny with coconut scented sunscreen. Blue sky dotted with white clouds. Her family. Together. Safe. Rocked by the tropical breeze._ She’s held onto that image like contraband. But something’s wrong. The fantasy has lost something. It’s fainter. Farther away. The edges are blurring. Like it’s being taken from her. It’s dying. Because it isn’t possible anymore. Her chest is tight. She can’t breathe. The connected images pull her down like a riptide. The bleachers. The pool. The kettle bells. It was them in the pool too. Their future together. Their dream. Their hope. Executed in front of an audience. _There is no future for us. This is the end._

June opens her eyes. Nick is watching her with concern. June steels herself and nods weakly.

Nick’s face darkens and he nods acknowledgement. Hiding the matchbox and placing the condom on his bedside table.

They undress without passion- on opposite sides of the bed. Like prisoners preparing for their execution.

 

June removes her bonnet. Setting it next to the picture of Nick and Joshua by the record player. She slips out of her red dress, folding it over his kitchen chair. Nick removes his dog tags, placing them in a box by his bed. He pulls his olive green shirt off over his head.

June winces when she takes her boots off. Hissing in a harsh breath between clenched teeth. Instantly chastising herself. But it’s too late. Nick’s already crossed the room and lifted her to sit on his bookshelf. Thankful to have finally localized her wound. He kneels in front of her. Carefully pulling her stockings off, gently unwinding Rita’s bloody bandages. June doesn’t protest or try to stop him. His breathing stops and his eyes widen as he takes in the lash marks, bruising and swelling on the soles of her feet.

He looks at her, brows clenching together as his threadbare composure crumbles.

_Fuck._ She thinks. Scolding herself. All of the progress she made calming and grounding him gone in a second.

“Nick look at me. Please look at me.” She whispers to him. “I’m ok. Come back to me. Please. I’m ok.”

Nick is silent. Barely breathing. Doubled over. Head in his hands. 

“Did HE do that?” He whispers.

He looks up at June. Murderous violence shimmering behind the tears in his eyes.

“If he did that to you....”

June’s shaking her head rapidly.

“June. TELL ME." 

“Lydia. It was Lydia.” June lies. Holding his gaze.

He searches her face. Shaking his head. His anger falls away, leaving devastation in its wake. They both know she’s lying.

 

June’s sees that her plan has failed. The sadness can't be stopped. It's too big. Like a tsunami wave. _It was a shitty plan anyway. I’m not ok. Neither are you.  We're hurting. We shouldn't waste anymore time pretending._ She softens her face. Letting her guard down. 

“It's not your fault. There’s nothing you could have done to stop it."

 

Nick shakes his head, clenching his eyes shut.

 

"Coming back was my decision. I knew what would happen. And I’d do it again.”

Nick's head snaps up- glaring at her in disbelief. 

 

“It was worth it..." June whispers, her lip trembling as her voice falters, tears spilling unchecked down her cheek "...to see you again.” 

 

They move into an embrace at the same time. She holds him close. Nuzzling his neck, breathing in his smell. Comforted so much already by his warmth. His steady heartbeat. His strong arms around her. 

 

Nick holds her tight, shaking his head, still sick with grief. Their friendship, their lovemaking had been her only refuge. He can't bear the thought of more postings. More rape. More stolen children. He wont be here to protect her. He'd gotten her out. He was ready to go to his death knowing his family was safe. But now she’s back and it was all for nothing. 

June feels his body tensing again.

 

She takes Nick's face in her hands and kisses him softly on the forehead, on the wrinkle between his eyebrows. She repeats this, gently kissing his eyelids, his cheeks. Relief floods through him. Like an opiate, mercifully dulling the pain. She moves her mouth to his, kissing him softly. 

 

Nick breaks the kiss. Forehead to hers. "I'm so sorry."

 

“It’s ok.” She whispers back. “It’s over.” 

 

He pulls back, searching her eyes. She sees the aching sadness he's carrying. It's unbearable. June can't stand it another second. She pulls Nick's face to hers, kissing him hard, only breaking it to whisper her plea. “Nick I need you. Please. ”

 

Her lips are soft against his, her mouth sweet and warm. He steps closer, hands finding her face. Kissing her back. Slowly at first, then deeper. His movements increasingly urgent. June moans softly into his mouth as she feels him coming back to her. Her whimper breaks the final wall around his heart. Suddenly Nick needs to forget as desperately as she does. To escape their bleak reality. To feel anything besides overwhelming grief. He needs to make love to her, make her feel good one last time. 

 

Nick hastily unfastens her bra and pulls it off, kneading her breasts with a deep moan. June feels the change in his energy and reaches for his belt buckle. Hastily unfastening it. Keeping her mouth next to his. Feeling the catch in his breath as she unbuttons and unzips his pants, pushing them off his hips with his shorts. Nick steps out of his clothes, pulling June's underwear off quickly he wraps her legs around his back. She's kissing him frantically and whimpering into his mouth. He picks her up, laying her on the bed. 

 

June winces when her feet hit the comforter, hissing in a sharp breath.

 

Nick breaks away. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to….MMMmmmmmph”

His words are cut short as June’s digs her nails hard into his shoulders. Punishing him for breaking the energy of their moment. “I don’t want to think about my feet _."_

He moves his eyes to hers, shivering as endorphins and dopamine course through his veins. June holds his gaze and drags her nails _hard_ down his back, carving deep welts into his skin. Giving him a physical wound to match hers. He hisses in through clenched teeth. She likes knowing he’ll feel that for days. That he’ll go to war with her mark on his back. The thought excites her in a primitive way.

"I want to think about _you_.” She whispers against his lips. 

 

Nick's eyes are lidded, dilated, drunk with desire. He reaches to the bedside table. Hurriedly tearing the package open and rolling the condom down his length. With his weight balanced on his left forearm he guides himself to her entrance. Warm and slick with need. He pushes inside quickly, lowering his weight to both elbows to kiss June as they adjust.

 

June clings to his shoulders. Eyes closed. Feeling only him. His heartbeat. His hips between her legs. The smooth skin of his back. His lips on hers, tongue soft in her mouth, tasting of cigarettes and scotch. His hands on her skin. There is nothing but their bodies together. A blissful oasis. A place to forget the world.

Nick kisses her softly, intentionally. Staving off the sadness this time. Fully present. He traces his fingertips across her cheek, caressing the curve of her jaw, her lower lip with his thumb. Savoring the softness of her lips. The taste of her mouth. The kiss feels incredible, spreading fire through his whole body.

Nick pulls back, watching June’s face as he guides her thigh to the side, opening her to him. With his eyes on hers he presses forward, slowly pushing inside her, sinking deep into her heat. They both moan through the first wave of pleasure.

Hips pressed tight into her, Nick starts rocking slowly. Holding her gaze. Keeping close pressure against her. Never pulling away. Never leaving her. June is watching him too. The sustained eye contact more intimate than they'd allowed before. 

Nick pushes with his toes against the mattress. Twisting the sheets in his hands for leverage. Breath catching as the improved angle sinks him deeper inside her. It’s good for June too. She arches her head back hard, breath held in bliss. Nick traces sensuous kisses down the long muscles of her exposed neck as he increases his pace. Hungry. Feral. Fucking into her hard. Brows clenching together, breaths shallow and shaky. June watches him helplessly, eyelids low, cheeks flushed, lips parted. June moves her hands to his ass, squeezing, pulling him closer. Asking for more.

Nick grabs the edge of the mattress, pulling harder, sinking deeper yet. Grinding hard against her clit with each thrust. Earning new sounds from June. Her moans impossibly erotic, electrifying him. Raising goosebumps on his skin. He’s kissing the cries from her mouth in earnest now. Wanting to swallow every one. Drink her like wine, drown in her. His eyes are closed, he kneads her breasts as he drives deeper. Harder. The heat is almost too much to bear. Nick is moaning too at the intoxicating perfection. No longer caring if anyone can hear him. Cheek pressed to hers. Calling out to her. Losing himself.

They’re close. Too close already. Breaths tight and shallow. Hands desperate. Cries loud and unrestrained. Almost at climax already. June feels panic rise again. It can’t be over this quickly. “Stop” she whispers. “Wait.”

She flips them, guiding Nick to sit up. The flimsy headboard creaks in protest behind his back. She straddles his lap. 

 

She touches his hair. His shoulders. His chest. Taking in as many details as she can. Putting this moment someplace safe. So she can come back and visit him here.

June takes him in her hand. Savoring the catch in his breath, the shiver as she memorizes the warmth and length of him. The softness of his skin and the hardness underneath. 

She lowers onto him - surrounding him with her tight wetness. Filling herself with him. Nick’s hands fly instinctively to her hips. Wanting more but not pulling or guiding her. Just caressing, squeezing her soft skin and biting his lip to restrain himself. Giving his body over to her.  

She gazes on his face in the moonlight. She breathes. “Look at me.”

Nick opens his eyes. Overwhelmed by the intensity he sees in hers. In awe at her beauty. His goddess. Golden hair spilling over her shoulder. White gold in the moonlight.

 

 _No romance. You made me promise when we started. That first time. Right here. No heroics._ _Fuck that shit._

She strokes his cheek gently. “Remember me.” She whispers.

“I will.” He says, nodding, swallowing as fresh tears sting his eyes. 

June smiles at the thought, rolling her hips against his slowly. Nick’s breath catches and his eyelids sink lower, hands gripping her hips harder.

“Think of me.” She says in her breathy whisper. “Every day. Remember me like this.”

“I will.” He moans. Pressing up into her thrusts. Moving with her, his chest pressed right against hers. His mouth open against hers. Catching the air she no longer needs for his own ragged breaths. Fingers digging into her hips, desperately pulling her down harder against him. 

“When you touch yourself… it’s not your hand. It’s me around you. Like this.”

“Fuck.” Nick grinds out between clenched teeth.

“Say my name...say my name when you come. Call me. I’ll hear you.”

“God...June.” He pulls her into a desperate kiss. Tongue gliding against hers. Hands in her hair, on her face. Rocking his hips hard, needing her so much closer.

_Is that all we get? Memories?_

 

She breaks their kiss. Moving more urgently now. “Find me.” She begs.

“I’ll find you.” He breathes back, smiling as tears run down his face. “I’ll find you.” The thought feels so good. Seductive. June smiles too. Almost laughing. It feels like fucking morphine in her veins. Even if it’s impossible. The idea makes her feel high.

“Wait for me.” She whispers.

“I’ll wait for you.”

“Wait for me Nick.”

“Forever. I’ll wait forever.”

“Please.”

“I will. I promise.”

Nick stops moving. Breathing hard. He pulls back, pushing June’s hair back from her face. Watching her. 

“I love you.”

He doesn’t expect a response. He just needs her to know. Before something terrible happens.

She smiles, nodding. Hand on his cheek. “I love you too.”

Nick kisses June passionately. They kiss until they’re breathless. Murmuring feverish vows every time they break apart for air. Tears and smiles on their lips.

They continue like this. Making love in the moonlight on his tiny bed. Rejecting the darkness. Ignoring it’s enormity. Aware only of each other. Huddled protectively around their dying fire. Basking in it’s warm glow. Fanning the flame with each whispered promise. Keeping it alive a moment longer.

 

Knowing the memory of this night will be the only light they can carry forward into the darkness.


	2. Dusk

 

 

 

>   _when days are dark, darling, remember_  
>  _my love for you won’t go away_  
>    
>  _so is it just me, or am i seeing things?_  
>  _or does the way we breathe make perfect sense?_  
>  _i could start fires with what i feel for you_  
>  _the sun could fade out and we’d see it through_

 

**_dawn_ **

_  
_ She wakes up first the next morning. Like always.

It’s been nearly a year since they last fell asleep together - on a pull out couch at the Boston Globe. And as she shakes off the cobwebs of sleep she finds a small comfort in the fact that even though so much has changed, some things haven’t. She wakes up first. He wakes up second. He sleeps better when she’s there. So does she.

Somehow, this dingy, dark little room that always smells faintly of car exhaust still feels like home, a place where she’s still truly comfortable and feels like herself, even though she hasn’t been here in months. She’ll miss it.

She turns away from Nick and looks towards the window. It’s still dark outside, but she can hear birds starting to chirp, ready to get on with their day even though she isn’t. But she doesn’t have to go yet. Still hidden under the cover of blue dawn, she turns back over, laying her cheek on his shoulder and skimming her fingers along the plane of his abdomen, committing the feel of his soft skin to her memory. She has to remember everything. Soon, it’ll be all she has. She feels grief and panic start to tighten around her chest like a vise at the thought, threatening to engulf her, even though she doesn’t want to get lost in those feelings, not yet. She can save that for later, on her own. Right now she needs to be present, with him. She lays her hand flat on Nick’s chest, feeling his heartbeat underneath it, allowing it to calm her. He’s still here. He hasn’t gone anywhere. When he does, he’ll be back. They’ll find each other. Somehow they always have. Their love finds a way, even when it shouldn’t.

She’s starting to drift back into sleep, warm and safe, tucked against his side when she feels him shift underneath her, his hand reaching over to brush her hair off her cheek. She tilts her head up to look at him, his eyelids still heavy with sleep, but his features softened, the hint of a smile on his lips. Content. He likes waking up with her as much as she loves waking up with him. He looks at her in that way that makes her sure he can see into her soul, like she’s the only thing in the world that matters, and she feels the grief start to creep in again, unsure of how she’s going to keep it at bay this time until Nick speaks.

“You look beautiful,” he says, his voice rough, still waking up along with him.

She rolls her eyes as she presses her face into his shoulder so he can’t see her smile. He’s such a terrible flirt. She inhales sharply, taking in the smell of chamomile and smoke, and committing that to her memory too. She’ll have to make sure she asks Rita what kind of tea he drinks before she’s off to her new posting. She closes her eyes as reality crashes down on her with that thought. He’ll be gone and she’ll be gone too. Both of them off to points unknown, without each other to lean on.

_He’s still here. You’re still here. Keep your shit together._

She pushes that terror back down again, repeating her thought like it’s an affirmation, and looks back up at him. She moves on to something lighter. “Has anyone ever told you you’re really bad at that?”

“Bad at what?”

“Flirting.”

He shakes his head. “No.” She looks at him incredulously and he’s quiet for a moment until he amends his statement. “Maybe once.”

She just smiles as she settles her head back down on his shoulder, falling back into comfortable silence as she goes back to tracing her finger along the lines of his torso. She feels him curling his fingers into her hair, twisting it around his fingers and she closes her eyes, letting herself get lost in the comfort of his touch, forgetting all the pain of yesterday. All that matters is here, right now. Everything else is too painful to think about, too dark.

But then her eyes open suddenly, almost involuntarily, her heart hammering in her chest as the pain and panic starts to grip her now that she’s even dared consider it. She’s caught in the riptide of it now, again, the darkness pulling her further and further away from any peace she may have momentarily found. Reality is - she’s fucking _terrified_. She can’t lose another person she loves. She can’t. He’s been her light, her hope, for as long as she can remember. She lays her hand flat on his chest again, focusing on his steady heartbeat once more.

“Where else could we go?” She begins, desperate, needing an escape from her own thoughts. She feels his hand still against her back as she tilts her head back to look at him, his brow knit together in confusion at her sudden statement. The confusion gives way to concern once he looks at her eyes, wild and unnerved. Sometimes she hates that he’s so damn perceptive. “Hawaii is far. Where else?”

“I… I don’t know,” he responds quickly and honestly to see how she reacts, holding her gaze. She can tell he’s debating changing the subject and asking her what’s wrong, but to his credit, he doesn’t. He plays along. “Florida, maybe.” He looks at her, hopeful, even though he knows it’s a terrible answer, and she shakes her head.

“Not a beach,” she says urgently. She needs this to be something different, somewhere new, so he tries again. She needs a new place to get lost in her head, some place totally unmarred by Gilead. Something to hope for.

“Forest. Mountains,” he throws out two locations, hoping one will stick, and she takes a deep breath as she considers. “The Rockies,” he clarifies, attempting to ground their future in something real as she feels herself start to nod. She knows the Rockies are still in Gilead but somehow it feels more attainable than the open air of the Hawaiian coast. A mountain is secluded, private. They could hide forever and no one would find them - safe under the cover of evergreens and soft, powdery snow. She feels herself start to unwind, the wave of panic receding as she trades sand for snow in her mind. Sandcastles for snowmen. She doesn’t care, all that matters is that they’d be together. A family. Safe.

“You and Holly can have snowball fights,” she says, imagining it so clearly in her head. Holly chasing Nick through the snow, cheeks red and laughing. He’d stop and turn to face her and she’d hit him square in the chest with a loosely packed snowball. He’d fall to his knees, dramatically feigning injury, and she’d crash into him, all dark curls and giggles, as he wraps his arms around her tightly in a bear hug, kissing her flushed little cheek. She knows he sees the same thing in his mind because his mouth turns up into a wistful smile almost involuntarily as he nods.

“We’ll find a cabin somewhere,” he adds. Now they’re all inside, warm, a fire crackling in the fireplace. She’d curl up on a couch with a book and Holly, who’d fall asleep curled against her side as she read to her while Nick kept the fire going.

“With a fireplace,” she smiles. “That’s a must.”

He nods as if he already has a place in mind, like they’re already there in this cabin together, the thought keeping them both buoyant. “And hot chocolate.”

Now in her mind Holly is dumping a handful of marshmallows on a mug of hot chocolate after Nick had given in and already indulged her with extra. _Just a couple more, Daddy_ , she’d promise as her tiny fist went into the bag and came back out full, knowing he wouldn’t have the heart to admonish her. She laughs as she pulls herself closer against his bare skin, his body heat matching the warmth she feels coursing through her body. All her panic has evaporated now into the early morning air, turned to dust.  “Oh yeah, of course. She’ll love that. You’ll spoil her.”

That earns her a chuckle and a smile in response, a true one, and she’s thrilled. Something else to hang onto. He doesn’t try to argue back, though, because he knows she’s right. Instead he grows quiet, letting his hand run absently up and down her back. She tries to remember that too as she settles back down against his chest, the way his fingers ghost across her skin, every nerve at attention. She notices the light starting to creep in through the window even more now that she’s not looking at him and she hates it. She needs more time. They need more time.

“Do you have to pack anything?” She asks innocently, her eyes still on the wall. She doesn’t really want to know, but she needs to know. She wants to know if she’s going to lose any time to him having to get up and prepare. She feels him tense up like a tightly wound spring underneath her and she curses herself for even asking.

“No,” he replies tightly. “Just the orders and the clothes on my back.” She closes her eyes, cursing herself again. It’s such a stupid question now that he’s answered it. Of course he wouldn’t need anything. This is Gilead. All Gilead does is try to strip you away and turn you into a uniform, a cog in the machine. Guardian, Handmaid, Martha. She tilts her head back to look at him and he’s staring up at the ceiling, unblinking, his jaw clenched tight. Trying to keep his shit together, same as her. Knowing what this moment is but not daring to say it, refusing to say it, just the same as her.

“Hey,” she says, pulling his quilt up around her as she props herself up on one elbow so she can look at him, breathing deeply through his nose, his eyes now closed. “Nick,” she says his name gently but he doesn’t respond, lost somewhere in his own grief and terror.

She counts to five in her head, allowing him the few seconds he needs to gather himself but knowing they don’t have the time for him to stay inside his own head for long as her eyes dart up to the window. Dawn will fully break any minute now and she still feels like there’s too much they have to say. When she hits five, she reaches her free hand out to touch his face, rubbing her thumb gently on his cheek. His eyes flutter open at her touch, immediately locked on her, but there’s so much pain swirling in them now. She smiles lovingly at him, not moving her hand from his face. She knows she can’t stop this train, he’s going no matter what he wants or what she wants but maybe… maybe she can frame it in a way that’ll help him. That’ll help her.

“You said you’re getting a promotion?” She begins cautiously, not moving her hand from his face, hoping he’ll respond better than he did to her previous question with her touch to ground him. He doesn’t tense up again but there’s a flash of curiosity in his eyes as he nods - he wonders where she’s going. She nods with him. He’s still with her.

“So you’ll be in charge, yeah? Leading a unit somewhere.” He nods again, now his eyes narrowing as he continues to stare at her. She runs her hand down his cheek to rest now on his chest. “Think of what you can do,” she says through a small smile at his still growing confusion. He shakes his head, not understanding what she means.

“Like the letters,” she clarifies and she sees it dawn on him. Change. He can help change things. He can use his position and his power for _good_ , to help others. He sighs as he pushes himself up to a sitting position, her hand falling off of him as she sits up too.

“June,” he finally says and she looks at him expectantly as he looks down and starts to shake his head, “the letters, that wasn’t-”

She cuts him off before he can finish his sentence with a shake of her head.

_So fucking noble._ _So selfless._

“No, that _was_ you, Nick. It was all you. _You_ saved them from me. _You_ kept them safe. _You_ got them to Canada. I know it was you.”

He looks up at her, his face a blank slate, but she sees everything in his eyes. Pain. Gratitude. But there’s also hope. It’s there. And all she needs is for him to take the smallest bit of it with him. As long as it’s not extinguished entirely, she knows in her heart that he’ll be okay. That she’ll be okay. She takes his hands in hers and continues. “You’ve already helped so much. Think of what you can do. What you can change.”

He nods as he swallows hard, she can see the tears brimming in his eyes, same as her. They don’t have any time left now, pale morning light is starting to pour into the room, and she has to go, they both know it, or all of her cover will be blown. Her hands find his face again, holding him steady, making sure he’s looking at her.

“And maybe…” she trails off, biting her bottom lip as she considers her statement before deciding, fuck it, she needs to say it and he needs to hear it. They both need the reminder of what they’re fighting for. Hope, each other, the future.

“Maybe you can find that cabin somewhere,” she whispers, and the dam breaks.

Nick’s lips crash against hers as they finally connect, one of her hands finding its way from his cheek to the back of his head, her fingers tangling in his dark curls as the kiss deepens, every emotion spilling out of both of them into each other - passion, fear, desire. Love. Above all else, love. Nick’s hands find her face as they break apart and she rests her forehead against his, both of their faces tracked with tears as they catch their breaths, still holding onto each other.

“I love you,” he whispers before taking a deep breath, his chest shuddering with unshed tears as he does. His thumb brushes on her cheek, wiping away her tears, always more concerned with her and her well being than his own, trying to push down his own fear and worry for her - making sure she’s okay, even if it means he isn’t. She closes her eyes as she gathers herself. It’s her turn now to reassure him.

She pulls back and looks at him again, his cheeks wet, his eyes searching hers, like he’s looking for the answer to the universe in them. She takes a deep breath too and reaches up and takes his hand off her face so she can hold it, his fingers gripping hers tight, like she’s his only lifeline. She brings his hand to her lips and kisses the back of it.

“I love you,” she whispers as she leans back in against him, pressing her forehead against his once more. “No matter what happens. Nothing’s gonna change that. I love you.”

And then she lets his hands go, bringing hers back to his face and pulling him in for another kiss. This time it’s quick, just enough for her to memorize the way he tastes on her lips before she pulls away from him entirely, somehow managing to extricate herself from the warmth and safety of his bed.

She doesn’t wince when her feet hit the floor even though she’s sure the pain is worse today than it was last night. He’s always so strong for her and she has to be strong for him too, so she fights through the excruciating pain as she stands and dresses herself the same way she’d undressed last night, almost robotically, just going through the motions. One action after the next, all moving her towards a destination she doesn’t want to reach. She has to bite her lip from crying out as she pulls her boots on, but she refuses to let the last thing he thinks about be her pain. He can’t leave like that. She can’t let him leave like that.

She also doesn’t dare turn to look at him as she starts to leave, knowing if she does she won’t go, she wouldn’t have it in her. She’d stay and let them catch her and part of her thinks it might be worth it. She stops when she reaches his door, her hand trembling as she puts it on the knob. This is it.

Tears fall as she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, somehow gathering herself enough to turn the knob and exit out into the chilly morning air without turning around.

 

* * *

 

 

Four months later, she finds herself in Washington DC with the Waterfords, still unable to fully escape them.

They’d dragged her down for a prayer service, a chance for Fred to stand on the steps of what used to be the Lincoln Memorial and pray for the safe return of their baby to Gilead. June knows it’s all bullshit. She knows Fred is just barely keeping his head above water, doing whatever he can to save face and his own skin.

That’s what she likes about Commander Lawrence and her new posting - he tells her things. She reads the newspaper now, she watches news clips online. She knows this is all bullshit and that Holly is safe, in Canada, with Luke, and there’s zero chance that whatever this dog and pony show ends up being today will have any real effect on anything.

But more than that she also knows about things that have been happening on the front. Lawrence tells her that too, as a way to shore up support for the resistance since it’s not officially reported anywhere. More Handmaids and kids are making it across the border than ever before. A Gilead stronghold somewhere in what used to be South Dakota had been easily overcome by rebel forces when it shouldn’t have, and a large swath of what had been Colonies was now under UN control.

He never tells her who’s responsible, but he doesn’t have to. She knows.

She’s standing patiently, waiting to get this whole production over with, her hands clasped in front of her when she almost has to do a double take at who’s approaching her, wearing the black high collar of a Gilead lieutenant. It’s a good look on him.

He strides towards her, confident, the smallest hint of a smile on his lips. Clearly he’s not surprised to see her, but it takes every ounce of her self control not to break out into a smile at seeing him. She hadn’t expected it, but she’s not surprised. She knew he’d be okay. She’d known all those stories were about him. He hadn’t lost hope and neither had she. He’d done _good_.

“What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” He asks playfully, his voice barely above a whisper to keep it from echoing in the large open chamber they're standing in as he turns and stands next to her, joining her. Somehow, she manages to keep her eyes from rolling but she can’t fight the smile that forms on her face.

_So bad at flirting. Truly fucking terrible._

As the shock and excitement of seeing him starts to subside, suddenly she realizes that although his appearance has been a welcome surprise, she also doesn’t know when she’ll see him again. It’d be easy to let that panic at the unknown overtake her, like it had all those months ago when he’d left. But just as she starts to worry, she feels the back of his hand graze hers, as her eyes flick over and catch his doing the same. And just like that, the panic evaporates. She knows this isn’t their end, just like it hadn’t been before.

Instead, as their fingers tangle together just the smallest amount at their sides, the most they can allow out here in the open, she knows that even if this moment now is all she gets, it won’t be the last. Somehow, against all odds, they’ll find a way to be together again.

They always have.

 


End file.
